


He Kneels

by Selly87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Bondage Bench, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Cock Rings, Dildos, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Kneeling, M/M, Mild Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Punishment, Riding Crops, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Draco Malfoy, Submission, Submissive Draco, Subspace, Tender loving care, Top Harry Potter, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 05:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87
Summary: “What do you want, my gorgeous little prince?” Harry asked softly and Draco stared up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling slightly beneath Harry’s gentle caress.





	He Kneels

**Author's Note:**

> Hm, well I think the tags make the topic very clear. If BDSM is not your cup of tea, don't read it. If Dom/sub is not your cup of tea, don't read it. This isn't a mild _Harry-is-a-bit-bossy-and-Draco-plays-ball-fic_ , so all I can say is read the tags and if it turns you off, don't read it or if you're curious, go for it but don't blame me if you don't like it. *steps off soapbox*
> 
> Now, I honestly don't know what drove me to write this story, although I reckon it might be because I've been writing too much tooth-rotting fluff lately and absolutely needed a change. This in return let to a lengthy debate with my _**Fairy Smut King**_ who was convinced I'd be able to pull off a BDSM fic, while I was convinced that I, well, wouldn't be. Hours of brainstorming, a little bit of research and plenty of forced (?) praise later, here we are.
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/31290623877/in/dateposted-public/)  
>   
> 

Harry unlocked the front door to Grimmauld Place with a practised flick of his hand and clasped his hand around the large golden doorknob. A tiny shock surged through his hand as the house recognised his magical signature and he easily pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold.

Once inside the savoury and rather mouth-watering scent of dinner instantly wafted over to him. With a smile, Harry took off his shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe rack inside the walk-in wardrobe just behind the front door. He left his jacket there too, and slowly patted into the kitchen. He stopped, casually leant against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest and watched the man who had, a long, long time ago, stolen his heart move around the kitchen with an air of grace and elegance that was breathtakingly unique. To Harry, it almost appeared to be a dance, rather than just the most common of tasks in a household. Harry unashamedly watched for a while, silently noted the absence of music or Draco’s humming, which sounded almost like a kitten’s purr, or so he always thought. It was an odd habit Draco had developed some years ago, and while it had annoyed Harry at first, he had never quite been able to find it in him to make Draco stop. His man only ever hummed when cooking and somehow Harry, after getting over his initial irritation, had come to rather enjoy the soft, soothing sound.  

He pushed himself away from the doorframe, walked into the kitchen and embraced Draco from behind, slipping his arms possessively around Draco’s lithe, toned body. He pulled him tightly against his own body and noted how Draco, rather uncharacteristically so, tensed first before he relaxed into the familiar embrace. One oddity Harry could accept, two were signs of something else.

“What’s for dinner, my love?” Harry asked casually, buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck and inhaled deeply. He tightened his hold on Draco considerably, his embrace now almost painful. A tremor went through Draco’s body and after a moment of silence, he finally answered.

“Blanquette of chicken in a creamy, white wine sauce with fresh green peas, carrot cubes and corn. I’ve made rice with it,” Draco replied and Harry noted the barely-there crack in his voice as he spoke. _Strike three_. Something was going on that needed investigating, although not now. Now it was time for dinner.

“I’ll wash up,” he whispered into Draco’s neck, placed a chaste kiss on the warm pale skin and left the kitchen to wash his hands and face in the guest bathroom down the hall.

He deliberately took his time and when he returned Draco had finished setting the table. Harry took his seat, motioned for Draco to pour him a glass of water, then waited for Draco to sit down as well before he started on his dinner. It tasted heavenly, the flavours all blended beautifully together and Harry savoured each bite with the greatest pleasure. He loved Draco’s culinary exploits and it had been a few weeks since he last had been home early enough for them to enjoy dinner together. His latest case was a bit of a stubborn one that involved a fair bit of travel around Britain and one trip to Switzerland. As such he had rather neglected spending quality time with Draco, something he knew Draco was less than happy about but there was nothing he could do about that. Today, the opportunity for an early finish had presented itself and Harry had jumped at the chance to come home early. He had immediately owled Draco to let him know that he would be home for dinner, a surprise he would have thought would make Draco happy.

Harry paused, his fork halfway up to his mouth and glanced at Draco, who was sitting across from him. He had his head lowered and was all but pushing the food unenthusiastically around his plate. Harry was sure that he couldn’t have had more than two bites since they had sat down. _Strike four._ “How was your day?” he asked.

“Fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” Draco replied and the fact that he didn’t lift his head to meet Harry’s eyes was something that bothered Harry enough to result in a lingering bout of mild annoyance. He, however, didn’t comment on it. He also didn’t comment on the fact that Draco had just lied to him. He did, however, make a mental note of it. _Strike five._ This was getting serious, normally strike three would be enough for Harry to be up on his feet towering over Draco, taking control of the situation to rectify whatever had Draco feeling out of sorts. Today, however, Harry wanted to try a different approach. “How is the case coming along?” Draco asked and this time he briefly lifted his head. The red rims underneath his eyes were faint, almost unnoticeable and Harry guessed that Draco had tried to glamour them but hadn’t quite managed. To the trained eye, the faint proof that Draco had been crying at some point today was plain as day. _Strike six._ _Hm,_ if frivolous small talk over dinner was what Draco wanted, then frivolous small talk over dinner was what Draco would get. For now, anyway.

Harry casually updated Draco on the case, answered a few of Draco’s questions on the development of the whole thing and appreciated a law-based piece of advice that Draco offered him. As he gave his advice, he sounded almost passionate, but Harry could still tell the difference. He knew Draco better than anyone. Their conversation turned more casual and they briefly chatted about recent events. By the time Harry had finished his dinner, Draco had all but eaten another two spoonfuls of the simple but divine dish he had clearly made such an effort to prepare for them. Harry, once again, said nothing but when Draco stood to remove the dishes from the table, he, too, stood and slipped out of the kitchen and into the living room where he poured himself a generous glass of Firewhiskey.

With the glass in hand, Harry returned to the kitchen and casually leaning back against the sturdy kitchen table he waited for Draco to finish with the dishes. He didn’t say anything but merely observed. He lifted the drink to his lips and was about to take a small sip when Draco turned, drying his hands on a clean kitchen towel. He placed it neatly on the worktop behind him, approached Harry, lowered his head and gracefully sunk to his knees.

“Sir,” he said softly, keeping his head firmly bowed and his eyes fixed on Harry’s socked feet. Harry drank in the sight of his partner’s sudden submission. It was truly beautiful and even on his knees, Draco had the grace of an angel. He bowed his head with such dignity that it tore at Harry’s heartstrings and he reached out and ran his fingers through Draco’s soft blond hair. It had grown past the nape of his neck and Harry liked it like that. The length was perfect. He gently massaged Draco’s scalp and his beautiful fallen angel let out a sweet whimper. “Such sweet noises you make,” Harry whispered, then withdrew his hand.

Instead, he placed a single finger underneath Draco’s chin and gently forced him to lift his head, to look up at him. Draco’s eyes were watery and his face was tense. He wasn’t at all at ease, seemed rigid and distraught and Harry gently ran his thumb over Draco’s pale-red lips. They were so soft beneath his touch and Harry ached to kiss them but resisted the urge for now. There would be plenty of time for that later, for now, he had another agenda.

“What do you want, my gorgeous little prince?” Harry asked softly and Draco stared up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling slightly beneath Harry’s gentle caress.

“Sir, may I please have some of your drink?” Draco asked, his voice a little steadier than moments ago but Harry could still tell the difference. He could always tell.

“So polite. Yes, you may, my sweet angel,” Harry smiled and brought his glass of Firewhiskey to Draco’s lips. He knew all too well that Draco ordinarily preferred a glass of fine wine over a tumbler of Firewhiskey, but since Draco had asked him so very nicely, Harry wasn’t about to refuse him. He tipped the glass a little and the potent drink flowed freely into Draco’s mouth. Draco took a large gulp and choked almost instantly. He spluttered a little, his cheeks pinked and his eyes watered as the drink mercilessly burned its way down his throat. Harry simultaneously set the tumbler down on the table and caught a single drop that had escaped Draco’s lips and trailed down to his chin.

He brought it up to his own lips and sucked it off his thumb, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. “No spilling the good stuff now, love,” he gently reprimanded and Draco lowered his eyes guiltily. “Look at me,” Harry urged and Draco did just that. Harry was mildly surprised. Draco was usually very submissive but his lack of hesitancy spoke volumes. Harry had known Draco long enough to be able to read him like a book. Best of all, he knew how to read between the lines of that book, knew how to recognise the invisible clues, knew how to deal with it in any given situation.

Harry took another moment to look at Draco, his grey-blue eyes were as clear as crystals, yet there was something off about them. It wasn’t just the fact that they were glistening with unshed tears, both from the Firewhiskey and whatever had happened to unsettle Draco this much, but the colour, there was something distinctly off about the colour of Draco’s eyes. They lacked their usual vibrancy and Harry stroked his knuckles over Draco’s cheek. It was a gentle, barely-there kind of touch, but Draco instantly tilted his head towards it. Harry stilled his hand and cupped Draco’s cheek. “What do you need, my little prince?” he asked.

“I need you, Sir, please,” Draco whispered and Harry shook his head.

“You’ll have to be more specific about that now, my love, you know the rules,” he chided and watched as Draco bit his lips. He knew that Draco wasn’t shy about asking what he wanted but he also knew that when Draco was extremely upset or restless, he struggled to find the right words to express himself. Harry found that change in Draco endearing because ‘ _lost for words_ ’ wasn’t a phrase he would have thought he would ever associate with Draco.

“Make me forget everything but your name, Sir, please,” Draco spoke and Harry could practically feel the tension roll off Draco in gigantic waves. Harry didn’t need to hear the words to know that Draco craved release, needed release, needed it so badly he was willing to give it all up for Harry.

He placed his finger underneath Draco’s chin and urged him to look at him. “Up,” he said as he forced Draco to rise to his feet. He brought his hand to rest at the nape of Draco’s neck, and fingers entangled in his silky-smooth hair, Harry drew him in for a kiss. He purposefully bit Draco’s bottom lip, though not hard enough to draw blood but certainly hard enough to cause a bit of pain, and pushed his tongue into Draco warm, wet mouth. Draco melted against him and Harry placed both hands on Draco’s shoulders. They were rigid with tension, and Harry knew no massage in the world would ever provide Draco with the kind of release he needed. No, what Draco needed was for Harry to take care of him, to properly take care of him, to make it all go away.

Harry let his hands trail down Draco’s upper arms, down his forearms and right to his wrists. He closed his fingers tightly around them, squeezed firmly and allowed his nails to dig right into the tender skin. Draco moaned into their kiss and Harry tightened his grasp just a little more, then swiftly pulled Draco’s hands behind his back and held them there. He withdrew from the kiss, looked at Draco and smiled. “I’ve got you, my little prince, I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you, you’re safe with me,” he said, his voice unwaveringly steady and Draco’s whimper was music to his ears.

He did not have to tell Draco to keep his hands behind his back and letting go, he held his hand out and wandlessly summoned a black leather collar with a steel ring for a leash. He let the soft material slide along his palm, then expertly fastened it around Draco’s neck. Draco instantly lowered his head. “Such a good little prince,” Harry praised, rewarded Draco by running his hand through Draco’s hair, then hooked his finger into the steel ring at the front of the collar and tugged at it. “Follow me, gorgeous,” he said. He let go of the steel ring and Draco obediently followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, diligently always keeping a step behind Harry, keeping his eyes downcast and his head lowered.

Harry unhurriedly let Draco up to the fourth floor, unlocked the door to their extravagant playroom and stepped inside. Draco followed suit, moved over to his usual spot and Harry quietly closed the door behind them. “Strip,” he demanded, leaned back against the door, and crossed his arms over his chest. At the order, Draco’s arms instantly dropped from behind his back to his sides and keeping his head lowered, his eyes cast onto the floor, he pulled his dark-green cashmere jumper over his head and folded it neatly before placing it onto the floor. Harry let his eyes trail over the beautifully unblemished pale skin of Draco’s torso. Unblemished bar for one scar across his lower abdomen, a permanent reminder of that horrid curse Harry had thrown at him back in their sixth year. Snape had managed to heal all the other scars and the Dittany had taken care of the scarring, except of course for this one particular scar, it had stubbornly refused to respond to the Dittany and it was a stark contrast when compared to Draco’s otherwise unmarked skin. There was of course his Dark Mark and Harry could still make out its contours on Draco’s inner left forearm, but he never paid any heed to it.

Draco undid the top button of his trousers and Harry noted that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly, but he did not approach to intervene. Instead, he watched intently as Draco unzipped his trousers, pushed them down to his ankles, gracefully stepped out of them and folded them before placing them right on top of his jumper. His boxer briefs and socks were next and Harry noted that Draco did not carry his wand on him. He also noted that he did not have to order Draco to kneel, for he did so without Harry having to tell him to do so.

Harry remained where he was, leaning against the door, arms still crossed over his chest and drank in the breath-taking sight of Draco’s unforced submission. It was, by far, the most alluring thing Harry had ever seen, there was nothing more beautiful than visual proof of just how much Draco trusted him, of how safe he felt in Harry’s presence. Harry pushed himself off the door, approached Draco and cupped his chin with a single hand. He lifted Draco’s face up and smiled. “You are so beautiful, so good, kneeling here on the floor for me, my little prince,” he praised and Draco swallowed hard, whimpered and a tremor surged through his entire body. There was no doubt how affected he was by those words and Harry loved him even more for it.

“Thank you, Sir,” he responded and Harry withdrew slowly.

“Wait,” he instructed and as if on cue Draco lowered his head and crossed his wrists behind his back. _Delectable_ , Harry thought, then moved to the far side of the room and opened a rather large wardrobe. His current attire was less than suitable for a scene, besides he wanted Draco to wait, wanted to build up his anticipation, wanted to give him the time to get into the right headspace.

Harry intentionally took his sweet time as he changed out of his clothes. He stripped naked, pulled on a pair of jeans that hung precariously low on his hips and left it at that. He flicked his wand to slightly raise the temperature inside the room and flicked it again to fold his clothes into a neat pile. He summoned Draco’s pile of clothes, placed them beside his own and made his way over to another wardrobe that held an assortment of riding crops, whips, floggers and other wonderous toys. He knew that Draco could hear his bare feet echoing around the room and purposefully moved a little more than necessary as he deliberated over all the choices he had. Eventually, he settled on a nice, simple soft leather riding crop with a straight leather handle.

Riding crop in hand, he walked over to another cabinet, pulled a small drawer open and took out a beautiful custom-made silver cock ring, infused with magic. It pulsed gently in his hand — _much like a Snitch did just after you caught it_ — and slipped it into his jeans pocket. He then slowly walked over to where Draco was still acquiescently kneeling on the floor. Harry noted that Draco’s breathing had increased somewhat and his chest rose faster than it had before. He approached Draco, moved the riding crop underneath Draco’s chin, and forced it upward. “Are you ready, my love?” he asked and Draco nodded. “I can’t hear you,” Harry clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Yes, Sir, yes, I’m ready,” he corrected himself and Harry nodded, rather pleased with Draco’s compliance. He trailed the riding crop down Draco’s neck and towards his chest, watched Draco suck in a sharp breath and then continued to let the soft leather trail down Draco’s front until he had reached his crotch. He gently rested the riding crop against Draco’s thigh, relished in Draco’s wide eyes, his slightly parted lips, and his ragged breathing.

“Hm, you’re just desperate for it, aren’t you?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Draco said, his voice shaking and Harry was under no illusion that by the end of their scene Draco would be unable to put a coherent sentence together, let alone a simple string of syllables an infant could master. Harry drew his wand, swished it, and cast a wordless incantation. A long string of gleaming, black silky rope bonds shot from the tip of his wand and he directed them to slither around Draco’s upper arms, his forearms, and his wrists as well as his chest. He bound Draco tightly, weaving an intricate pattern of beautiful knots as the ropes tightened around Draco’s pale skin. The contrast between the dark ropes and Draco’s pale skin was a beautiful remarkable sight and Harry gently tapped the riding crop against Draco’s thigh, flicked his wand and tightened the ropes a little more.

Draco quivered, struggled a little against the tight bonds but soon relaxed and gave into the sense of security the bonds clearly seemed to give him. “When I came home today, I noticed six things that were off with you, you’ll get one strike for every single one,” Harry told Draco firmly. “I want you to count, if you miss one, you’ll get one more.”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco nodded, bit his lower lip, and lowered his gaze onto the floor.

“Such a good boy,” Harry praised him yet again, then brought the crop down hard on the back of Draco’s right thigh. A wretched sob escaped from Draco’s throat and his entire body shook from the impact.

“ _One_ ,” he cried out.

“What was that now?” Harry asked, bringing the crop down again on the same spot, albeit much gentler for he didn’t intend to cause any pain, just remind Draco of his mistake.

“ _One, Sir,_ ” Draco breathed.

“That’s much better,” Harry said, silently counted to three, then struck Draco once again. This time the crop landed just half an inch underneath the previous strike and Draco trembled, cried out and panted through the stinging pain.

“ _Two_ , Sir,” he spoke a second before Harry could grow impatient and this time Harry did not wait, he brought the crop straight down again, making sure it landed exactly between the first and the second strike. Draco’s cry was louder than before and tremor after tremor surged through his body as he threw his head back and screamed out and breathed through the stinging pain of soft leather striking his pale, smooth skin.

“ _Three_ , Sir,” he choked on a sob and Harry gave him a moment, then, without warning, struck down harder than before, hitting previously unmarred flesh. Draco screamed, his entire body convulsed and he bent forward, his thighs shaking from the effort it took him to remain on his knees, his toes curling and his hands clenched into tight fists. A fine sheen of sweat was beginning to appear all over his body and it took Draco longer than before to find his voice.

“ _Four_ , Sir,” he wept, tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaved from the effort it took him to control his breathing and his mouth hung open as he whimpered through the lingering pain.

Not waiting, Harry struck again, much harder than before because this one was to punish the fact that Draco had lied to him over dinner when he had asked about his day. This time Draco fell forward rather than bend and his knees briefly gave away as he howled through the pain, crying freely now, sobbing more like it. He was nearing incoherence and Harry gave him a bit of time to call out the number of the latest fierce strike against his by now burning skin. Draco did not speak but merely whimpered, gasping for air.

“Draco,” he said threateningly, giving him one last chance to call out, but Draco merely mumbled something incoherent. Harry counted to three in his head, slowly, giving Draco ample time to remember what he had forgotten to say, then brought the crop down square across Draco’s toned, pert and pale arse cheeks, leaving an angry and rapidly reddening welt behind. Draco screamed out, shook almost uncontrollably, and sobbed.

“ _Five_ , Sir, _five_ , I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ …” he apologised, straightened up a little and trembled as Harry tenderly ran the riding crop over the red skin on the back of Draco’s thigh. The angry red was a stark contrast compared to Draco’s beautiful pearly skin and Harry wanted to run his bare hand over the marks and feel the little uneven pattern they’d left behind. Instead, he brought the crop down across the back of Draco’s thigh one last time, hitting that first welt perfectly as the leather struck Draco’s skin.

Draco gave a long, loud, piercing cry, sobbed through the pain, and clenched and unclenched his fists as he tried to breathe, tried to control the pain.

“ _Six_ , Sir,” he spoke, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper and Harry let the riding crop dangle from his wrist, the handle holding it firmly in place. He gave Draco the time he needed, then gently pulled him up to his feet and steadied him when it became apparent that he was struggling to hold himself up and needed another minute to do just that.

Once Draco stood, somewhat steadily, Harry stood in front of him, grasped his chin tightly and forced him to look right at him, which he did, given that he had little choice in the matter. Draco’s cheeks were tear-stained and his lips parted. His eyes had glazed over and he looked strangely calm and composed for the fact that he had just taken six, well eight to be perfectly honest, strikes to the back of his thighs. “You did so well, my little prince,” Harry praised, brushed his thumb firmly across Draco’s cheek to clear away the streaks of salty tears, then trailed his hand along Draco’s neck, over his shoulders, down his bound arms, over his round, firm arse and to the heated red skin on the back of his thigh, tender to the touch. Harry ran the flat of his hand over the reddened skin and relished in the low whimper that escaped Draco’s lips. “You were so, so good, took it all, such a good boy you are,” Harry murmured, placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips and lightly smacked the marks he’d left on Draco’s skin.

Draco mewled into the kiss and Harry pulled away, trailed a single fingertip up Draco’s thigh, towards his arse and ever so lightly along the crack between his arse cheeks. Not enough to breach but enough to make Draco moan, close his eyes and tip his head back. “So gorgeous you are, all bound like this, trembling beneath my touch, so beautiful and all mine, always mine,” Harry said, trailed his finger horizontally along Draco’s lower back and towards his hipbone and the place where his thigh connected with his torso and dangerously close towards his crotch. “Tell me. Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered, his finger teasing through the soft blond curls of Draco’s trimmed pubic hair.

“I’m yours, Sir, I’m yours.”

“Hm, yes, you are, say that again.”

“I’m yours, Sir, always yours.”

“Such a good little prince,” Harry praised, slipped his finger even slower and let it ghost over Draco’s limp cock, teasing around it, his finger neither here nor there, yet everywhere. “You like that, don’t you?” Harry asked and Draco nodded. “What now? I didn’t hear that,” Harry insisted, withdrew his finger and Draco whimpered.

“I like it, I like it very much, Sir, please, please, I’ll be good,” he begged rather shamelessly and Harry chuckled.

“Yes, you better be, otherwise we’ll have to use that crop again, don’t we? And you wouldn’t really want that now, would you?” Harry spoke firmly, gave Draco a moment to let the words sink in and just to make his point extremely clear, he smacked the back of Draco’s thigh, dragging a low moan from somewhere deep inside Draco’s chest.

“No, please, Sir, I’ll be good,” Draco spoke softly, lowering his head in silent submission as he made his promise. Harry returned to teasing around Draco’s still limp cock, wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few expert strokes, pleased to feel it slowly fill with blood and grow harder at his insistent teasing. Draco bucked his hips, tried to push into the touch and Harry immediately slapped his arse, a hard and unforgiving reprimand.

“You may enjoy, but I set the pace,” he chided, his voice low, filled with the unspoken promise that he would, without batting an eyelid, punish Draco if he didn’t obey. Draco’s hips stilled almost immediately and Harry stroked him to full hardness, stroked him until Draco whimpered, mewled, and struggled to control his breathing, struggled to keep his hips still. He was desperate to thrust into Harry’s fist, desperate for more, possibly even desperate for release, but Harry knew that Draco knew they were a long way away from that.

With Draco fully hard, Harry withdrew his hand, slipped it inside his jeans pocket and pulled out the custom-made silver cock ring. He showed it to Draco, then used a wandless spell to lock it tightly around the base of Draco’s cock where it sat snuggly, pulsing lightly. The custom design included a charm that responded to gentle hisses, given in Parseltongue, and Harry focused and did just that. The pulsing increased briefly and Draco’s entire body shook from the unexpected stimulation. Harry let it go on for about another minute, then he hissed and the pulsing died down to an occasional tremor. Draco’s body still trembled and Harry smiled devilishly. “You’ll come when I say so, my love,” he whispered and hooked his finger into the steel ring at the front of Draco’s collar, tugged and led him over to a leather-padded bondage bench, low enough for Draco’s knees to remain firmly planted on the ground.

“On your front,” he instructed and Draco obeyed without the slightest hesitation. He positioned himself with his chest and stomach flat out against the cool leather and his knees on the ground, legs slightly spread. “Good boy,” Harry praised, drew his wand from his back pocket and swished it over the ropes that bound Draco’s wrists tightly to his back. He redirected the ropes to firmly tie Draco’s wrists to the front legs of the bondage bench and repositioned the hind legs slightly so that he could spread Draco’s legs further apart before conjuring up an additional set of ropes to fasten his ankles to the bench. He ran the soft leather of the riding crop over the soles of Draco’s feet and marvelled at how his toes curled as he did so, then trailed the crop up his calf, the marked back of his right thigh, his gorgeous arse and all the way up his spine. The touch was entirely pleasurable and Draco trembled, whimpered softly, his head turned sideways, his cheek resting against the cool leather beneath him, his eyes half closed and his body still sweaty from the exertion of his recent punishment.

“Do you want to be good for me?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Sir, yes, I want to be good,” Draco responded.

“Hm, let’s see how good you can be for me, yes? Let’s see how much pleasure you can take,” Harry chuckled, dropped the crop onto the ground, firmly in Draco’s line of sight and since he still had his wand in his hand, he conjured a final set of ropes that bound Draco’s torso to the bench, making it impossible for him to lift himself off the bench. He stepped away from the bench, leaving Draco to his own devices, leaving him to wonder and wait. He walked over to a chest of drawers, pulled the top one open and after a moment of contemplation he picked a toy, he knew would result in maximum pleasure…eventually. With the toy in hand, he wandlessly summoned a tube of ridiculously expensive lube and keeping the toy well out of Draco’s sight, he returned to the bondage bench and trailed his fingers up and down Draco’s spine.

He placed his hand gently over Draco’s arse, mumbled a wandless cleaning spell, to which Draco shuddered a little and attempted to lift his hips a little off the bench. Harry clicked his tongue, then wrapped this hand around the tube of lube and mumbled a warming charm. His hand returned to the small of Draco’s back, he trailed his fingers gently over the warm, somewhat damp skin and listened to the subtle change in Draco’s breathing as his fingers slid lower and lower, sliding between Draco’s arse cheeks. He rubbed a single finger over the tender sensitive skin there, moved right to the firm ring of furled skin and rubbed the tip of his finger gently over the darkened flesh. Draco whimpered and Harry flicked the tube of lube open and spreading Draco’s arse cheeks he let the warm, thick liquid drip in-between. He was generous with the lube and watched as some of it ran down to the back of Draco’s balls and dripped onto the leather bench.

Harry flicked the lid closed, slipped the tube into his jeans pocket, and returned to tease Draco’s slickened entrance with his fingers. He massaged the firm muscle, pushed but refused to penetrate and just generally drove Draco wild with a tiny preview of what was about to come. Draco whimpered softly, his lips parted his tongue darting out ever so often to wet them. “You like that, don’t you, sweet angel?” Harry teased and Draco moaned.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered obediently.

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Sir,”

“Will you be good?”

“I’ll be so good, Sir,”

“Very well,” Harry smiled, pushed a single finger against Draco’s entrance and breached the tight muscle. It was only his fingertip that he had pushed inside but it was enough to elicit the most delectable moan from Draco, who clenched around his finger, attempting to draw Harry deeper. Harry slapped the reddened, tender skin on the back of his thigh and withdrew his finger. He went back to teasing Draco’s entrance, rubbing his finger over the rosette skin and a low hiss later the silver cock ring around Draco’s achingly hard erection hummed lowly and Draco moaned.

“Please, Sir, please,” he begged.

“Please what?” Harry asked.

“Please, I need you, Sir.”

“Need me how?”

“Please, I need you inside of me, Sir please.”

“Inside of you? Like how? Like so?” Harry asked, pushed his finger into Draco, working it deeper than it had been before and this time Draco knew better than to clench, new knew better than to try and struggle against his bonds and somehow push his arse up against Harry’s finger.

“Yes, Sir, yes, please,” Draco moaned and Harry pushed deeper still, angled his finger, curled it slightly and brushed Draco’s prostate, rubbing it gently.

Draco mewled and panted and Harry did it all over again. The noise level of Draco’s moans increased and Harry withdrew his finger, then thrust it deep into Draco, thrust hard and mercilessly, repeatedly, until Draco was past the point of coherency. Then, and only then, Harry withdrew his finger, added a second one and breached Draco once more. He stretched him, scissored him open and thrust deep into him, brushing his prostate with every stroke, deliberately angling for a sensory overload. Draco moaned and panted, almost delirious with the divine sensations Harry was causing. Draco struggled against his restraints, not because he wanted them gone but because his body was a trembling wreck and Harry could tell that he wasn’t far away from sinking into a bubble of bliss, a world where he only responded to Harry’s voice and where nothing else mattered.

Harry watched with rapt attention, thrust hard and unforgiving, claiming Draco as his for that was what he was. He could sense that Draco wasn’t far away from approaching his first orgasm and just before he reached the point of no return, Harry stopped, withdrew his fingers, and gently circled a single finger around and over Draco’s entrance.

“Be a good little prince now,” he reminded Draco sternly. Draco whined, it was a long and desperate cry but that was all it was. His body gradually calmed down and Harry gently massaged his lower back. “That’s my little prince, so good you are, letting me please you and knowing to hold back.”

“Sir—” Draco moaned his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Yes, my sweet little prince,”

“Sir— _Please_ ,”

“All in good time,” Harry said softly and adding more lube, he once more inserted a single finger into Draco, found his prize and teased. He quickly added a second, then added a third and slowed a little as Draco squirmed through the initial burn. Harry didn’t wait for the pain to subside fully and pushing three, well-slickened fingers into Draco, he stretched him open, fucked him with his fingers, fucked him mercilessly, and hissed for the pulsing cock ring around Draco’s leaking erection to increase its teasing torture.

“So good you are, taking my fingers like that, letting me own you,” Harry praised. “Tell me, my love, do you want more?”

“Yes, Sir, yes, please, _please_ , please,” Draco whimpered and Harry once again brought him right to the edge, only to stop right there. Draco screamed and tears spilt over the rims of his eyes as he fought to breathe through the sensations at Harry denying him his orgasm yet again. A stream of pleas fell from his lips and Harry summoned the crop and lightly brought it down across Draco’s arse. It was harsh enough to sting but not harsh enough to really hurt. It was nothing compared to the punishment, he had dished out earlier, but it was enough to remind Draco of who was in charge and the stream of pleas ceased.

“So greedy you are, my little prince, you want it all, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, angel?”

“Please, Sir.”

“Hm, so delectably greedy. Tell me again, who owns you?”

“You do, Sir, I’m yours, yours, you are my Master,” Draco responded without the slightest hesitation and Harry summoned the toy, he had selected earlier. He coated it with plenty of lube and rubbed it against Draco’s loosened entrance. Draco jerked his hips, moaned, and almost violently tore at his restraints as a tremor after tremor send him over the edge, not orgasm-wise but emotionally, his sensory receptors entirely focused on what was happening, his mind lost to the scene as he slowly descended into the first level of his subspace, Harry had created for him, his thoughts completely silenced.

Harry knew that he could push Draco further still, could push him into a trancelike state of complete submission, but it would take a little longer to get him there. Harry took a moment to drink in the sight of his gorgeous fallen angel, tightly bound, cheeks flushed red and wet with tears and sweat, hair soaking wet, sticking to the back of his neck, wrists and ankles reddened from his struggles and his lips deep-red and moist, body glistening with a sheen of salty perspiration and there was only one thought on Harry’s mind, namely how much he loved Draco, how much he valued his trust and his level of submission. He snapped himself out of his musings, pressed the toy firmly against Draco’s entrance and even though its girth was wider than three of Harry’s fingers, it slid in easily. Harry angled it towards Draco’s prostate and set a fast-paced rhythm as he slammed the dildo, modelled after his own cock, repeatedly into Draco. He brought Draco close two the edge twice more and after the forth denied orgasm, he crouched down and brushed his knuckles over Draco’s wet cheek. He was a crying, trembling mess, too far gone to really calm himself and Harry knew exactly how to coach him through it.

“You’re so, so good, doing all that, playing by my rules, taking it all, letting me fuck your arse like that, holding out for me,” he whispered and running his fingers through Draco’s soaked hair. “Tell me, can you take a little more, my sweet little prince?”

Draco nodded, eyes closed, clearly half-delirious.

“Angel, you’ve got to say it, you’ve got to tell me,” Harry reminded him.

“Yes—, Sir—, yes— I can—,” Draco mumbled, long pauses between almost every word.

“Such a good little prince you are,” Harry praised him, ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, then rose to his feet and reached for his wand to charm the bondage bench into a position that forced Draco to still kneel on the floor but also forced his upper body into an upright position. “Look at me,” Harry spoke firmly and Draco lifted his head. The support of the bench beneath his head disappeared and he had to support his own head, keeping it upright, looking at Harry, who placed his wand on a nearby dresser, popped the button of his jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down. His rock-hard cock sprang free and his trousers slipped down to his ankles. He carefully stepped out of them, wrapped his fingers around his own erection and leisurely stroked himself, hissing slightly. His hiss increased the pulsing around Draco’s cock just a tiny bit and Draco moaned.

“Open up, sweet one,” Harry instructed. “I want to fuck your mouth,” he added and Draco obediently opened his mouth. Harry stepped closer, ran the tip of his cock along Draco’s lips, then pushed inside, pushed in deep, forced Draco to take as much as possible and then some. “You’re so good, go on, take it all, swallow it all down, please me,” Harry encouraged and watched Draco’s eyes fill with unshed tears as he fought against his gag reflex. “Be a good boy, swallow it all, come on, take it,” Harry pushed deeper inside and Draco made a small gagging sound, swallowed rapidly and repeatedly, then slowly adjusted and allowed Harry’s impressive erection to slide down his throat. “Yes, you’re so good, take it, swallow it, take me deep,” Harry murmured, twisted his fingers tightly into Draco’s hair and slowly thrust into Draco’s mouth. He kept his eyes focused on Draco’s face, kept watching his own cock disappear inside of Draco’s warm hot mouth.

Feeling his own excitement built, Harry increased the speed of his thrusts, fucked Draco’s mouth unsparingly, watched those unshed tears slide down Draco’s cheeks, watched as his saliva leaked from his mouth, dropping to the floor and delighted in the little choking noises Draco made as he struggled a little to breathe. “Hm, yes, good boy, take it, please me, yes, so good, such a good little prince,” Harry commended and allowed a low moan of pleasure to escape past his lips. “You love this, don’t you? You like making me happy, right?” Harry asked and Draco’s eyes widened as he tried to nod and hummed around Harry’s cock that was repeatedly fucking his mouth, sliding down his throat, filling him up, claiming him, owning him. “Good boy, I’m so pleased with you.”

Harry removed one hand from the back of Draco’s head and summoning the toy he had briefly abandoned he charmed it and with a gentle snap of his fingers he guided it to Draco’s entrance, pushed it inside and settled for hard, fast thrusts that slammed against Draco’s prostate on every inward thrust. Draco groaned around his cock and Harry could feel himself edging closer to his own orgasm. He hissed an incantation in Parseltongue, a tremor rushed through Draco’s body and the cock ring transformed itself into an invisible hand that grasped Draco’s hard cock and stroked it firmly, exactly in time with the thrusts of the charmed dildo.

“Hold it, sweet angel, when I tell you to, be good now,” Harry reminded Draco, who attempted to nod. Harry smiled, brought his free hand back to the back of Draco’s head, held it in place and fucked Draco’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying the hot wetness of Draco’s lips and mouth repeatedly sliding over his cock and his balls slapping against Draco’s chin. He wound his fingers into Draco’s hair, tugged and pulled, felt his orgasm unfurl in the pit of his stomach and spread out through his body until it tore through him at the speed of light. “Take it all, my sweet little prince, swallow it all,” Harry moaned and came, spurting streak after streak of his come down Draco’s throat, forcing him to take it all, to swallow. Harry slowed his thrusts, rode out his orgasm and slowly pulled out of Draco’s mouth, smearing some of his come all over Draco’s lips. “Lick it off,” he ordered and Draco’s tongue darted out from between his lips and he greedily licked his lips clean.

Harry held Draco’s head firmly in his two hands, mumbled yet another incantation and the invisible hand around Draco’s cock stroked that bit faster. The dildo’s thrusts increased in speed and intensity and Draco’s body shook and trembled as a fresh wave of tears slipped from his eyes and a strange mixture between a strangled sob and a long, desperate moan fell from his lips.

“Such a good boy, you took it all, you let me fuck your mouth, you swallowed every drop I gave, you, I think you may come,” Harry smiled. “ _Come_ for me, my little prince, _come_ now,” Harry instructed and his words all but tore Draco’s orgasm from him, forced him to succumb to the wave after wave of intense pleasure as the dildo slowed and the hand around his cock disappeared. Draco screamed and moaned and whimpered and spurted long streak after long streak of come all over the bench and his own stomach. Harry continued to hold Draco’s head lovingly, forced him to look up at him, allowed him to ride out his orgasm as his body shook and convulsed and struggled against the bonds long after his orgasm had ceased. Harry incessantly praised Draco through it all, lavished him with sweet and tender words, then carefully stepped around him, crouched down and mumbled an incantation that removed all ropes, as well as the collar, from Draco’s body.

Harry knew that Draco was well past coherent at this stage, his eyes had fallen closed and a silly smile curled around his swollen, red lips. With the ropes gone, Draco slumped against Harry’s body and Harry caught him with practised ease. He forwent the charm that would reduce Draco’s body weight, rose to his feet, and carried Draco over to the large four-poster bed. He spelt the duvet back, gently placed Draco on the soft, cool satin sheets and covered him up, then straightened and stretched a little. Draco protested the loss of contact and his hand shot out from underneath the covers, searching for Harry’s.

With a smile, Harry rounded the bed, slid underneath the covers, and spooned around Draco’s exhausted body. He pulled him tightly against his chest, locked one arm around Draco’s midriff and slid the other underneath Draco’s head, offering it as a pillow. All the tension had left Draco’s body and it was a pliable heap of goo that pushed into Harry’s loving embrace. Harry kissed the nape of Draco’s sweaty neck, placed a few gentle kisses along Draco’s collarbone and a barely-there kiss against Draco’s earlobe. “Rest, my sweet little prince, you did so well, I’m so, so, so, proud of you, my love, my angel, my everything.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco’s sighed whisper of his name was barely audible but Harry heard it was though Draco had shouted it from the rooftop, because this was exactly what Draco had asked him for. He had asked him to make him forget everything but his name and Harry had gone and done just that.

“Yes, my sweet, sweet, darling, my beautiful angel. I’m right there, I’ve got you, you’re safe in my arms,” Harry reassured and kept talking until Draco’s breathing evened out and he drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Only then did Harry stop talking, allowed himself to close his own eyes and succumbed to the need to rest.

A little over an hour later, Harry woke, gently extracted himself from Draco and slipped out of bed. He headed for the en-suite bathroom, showered, and filled with massive bathtub with warm water and a mixture of relaxing essential oils. He summoned a fresh pair of jeans, slipped into them, then made his way over to the bed and coaxed Draco from his slumber. Draco grudgingly gave in to the pull of Harry’s voice, rolled onto his back, and as his eyes fluttered opened, Harry was pleased to note that there was absolutely nothing off about them, they were clear as crystals, sparkled like diamonds and were alive and vibrant, exactly as Harry liked them best. He slipped one arm underneath Draco’s arms, another underneath his knees, lifted him off the bed and carried him into the bathroom, where he placed him inside the tub and allowed him to lean back and enjoy a relaxing soak.

Harry sat on the edge of the bathtub, reached for a soft yellow sponge, and dipping it into the water, he gently washed Draco’s chest, washed his arms, his fingers, his legs, and his feet, even his toes. Finally, he chose a ridiculously soft washing cloth, soaked it in the water and cleaned Draco’s face. He removed the dried tearstains, washed away any traces of sweat and even washed Draco’s hair, first lathering it up with Draco’s favourite lemon-scented shampoo, then using his favourite vanilla-scented conditioner.

Once done, Draco looked at him, reached for his hand and pulled it against his chest. He rested it right above his heart and looked up at Harry with the sweetest, most vulnerable expression, Harry had ever seen. “Thank you, Sir,” Draco whispered, even though their scene was already over.

“Anytime, my sweet little prince,” Harry smiled, then coaxed Draco out of the tub. Draco met his suggestion with mild resistance, but a stern glare was all it took to get him to move and he gingerly climbed out of the tub. Harry reached for a big fluffy towel, carefully and lovingly dried Draco’s body and his hair, inspected the still angry and tender welts on the back of his thigh, summoned some healing salve and rubbed it into the sore flesh. Draco hissed and flinched only once, otherwise bravely stood still.

Once Harry had seen to the marks, he helped Draco to slip into a Slytherin-green fluffy bathrobe, took his hand and guided him out of the room and down to the third floor. Harry pushed the door to their bedroom open, pulled Draco inside, tucked him into bed, and placed a loving kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be with you in half an hour, I’ll just go and clean up,” he said and with a soft chuckle, he kissed the back of Draco’s hand, then left to clean up their playroom.

Back inside the room, he summoned his wand, cast a series of cleaning spells, stripped the bed, and banished the sheets to the washroom in the basement. He spelt a new set of silken sheets onto the bed, straightened everything out, then set about putting the bathroom back in order.

As promised, half an hour later he stood inside his and Draco’s bedroom, exchanged his jeans for a pair of loose, comfortable pyjama bottoms and a matching t-shirt and then slipped into bed next to Draco, who immediately ceased reading and shuffled to curl up at his side, seeking warmth, seeking comfort, seeking safety. Harry chuckled softly, embraced his husband, and stroked his fingers through Draco’s slightly damp hair.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked and Draco lowered his head but nodded. Harry instantly placed a finger underneath Draco’s chin and forced him to look up. “Hey, you’re safe here, you know that.”

“I know,” Draco nodded. “I feel so stupid, I shouldn’t have let it upset me but it did and I couldn’t shake it. It made me feel so bad, so dirty, it made me remember every horrid thing that ever happened,” he sighed and his eyes glistened with tears. Harry pulled him against his chest, kissed each eyelid, kissed his forehead, kissed the tip of his nose, and kissed his lips.

“You’re not bad, you’re my good little prince. I should know, you were so good today,” he whispered reassuringly. “Tell me, what happened,” he coaxed gently.

“I went to Diagon Alley today to pick up some of those books I ordered last week and when I came out of Flourish and Blotts some punk teen yelled _Death Eater scum_ right at my face and spit at me and I swear I didn’t want to let it upset me but I couldn’t stop it, I just— Nobody's called me that in years and I—” Draco paused, choking on his tears, his chest heaving as he tried to hold back a gut-wrenching sob.

“It’s okay, sweet one, I’ve got you,” Harry murmured into his ear, pulled him tighter against his own body and snuck his hand underneath the duvet to possessively tighten it around Draco’s wrist, squeezing tightly. “You’re my good little prince, my sweet, sweet angel,” he whispered, mumbling continued words of comfort until Draco’s breathing slowed, his sobs subsided and his tears dried. “I love you, Draco Malfoy, you are anything but Death Eater scum, you are my husband, my love, my life,” Harry said, his voice soft but firm, further calming Draco, calming him enough that Harry could let go of his wrist and simply hold him in his arms. He tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of Draco’s face and kissed his lips. “Next time, _do. not. lie. to. me._ and tell me everything is okay. I will always know,” he said sternly and a stream of apologies left Draco’s mouth. “You paid your dues,” Harry reminded him and a short while later, Draco drifted off into a peaceful slumber and Harry wondered if this one session had done its job of clearing Draco’s headspace. He wasn’t entirely sure but decided that he would contemplate the issue tomorrow. For tonight he was far too tired and absolutely needed some sleep.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Little Prince, Kneel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462467) by [Selly87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87)




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